In the hey-day of Blondie, if one predicted that Deborah Harry would eventually evolve into some kind of avant-garde jazz singer, the very thought would have been dismissed in a NY minute. Yet in 1998, Ms. Harry was in the midst of a mutually beneficial stint with the out-to-lunch Jazz Passengers, the most fractured and ironic of the NY downtown improvisers. Actually this marriage is more than one of convenience, if not made in heaven, since Debbie Harry's strongest asset was always her highly developed sense of humor.
This well-produced jazz festival set from July 1997 captures both the Passengers' musically sophisticated hijinks and their strange beauty. A special nod goes to Bill Ware, whose fluent vibraphone takes some of the harsh edge off the Passengers' sound. Leader-saxophonist Roy Nathanson answers Ms. Harry's surreal lyrics with rangy solos, supporting riffs, vamps, whatever his fertile imagination can add to the already heady brew he's got cooking.|

Rovi